


As I Say

by celeste9



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Cunnilingus, Discipline, F/M, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Minor Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: When Eliza has an unusual request to ask of her sister in regards to her husband, Angelica finds she is more than willing to comply. After all, seeing to Alexander's discipline will be no great hardship.None at all.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler
Kudos: 31





	As I Say

Angelica is not unaware that her relationship with her sister and her brother-in-law is not precisely usual. In fact, she is very much aware of it. That doesn’t make her conversation with Eliza any less surprising.

“Angelica, you must do it,” Eliza is saying as Angelica tries to follow. “I can’t.”

“But you wish to?”

“No, I wish for it to be done.”

“By me?”

“Yes!” Eliza says, as though this is a simple request and she has finally received a simple answer. “He’s terrible, you know he is. But you can control him.”

“I think you control him very well yourself, actually.”

“Well, perhaps,” Eliza allows, the tiniest smirk upon her lips confirming her agreement. “But he is still very bad, and you must show him so.”

Angelica holds Eliza’s hands in hers and looks deep into her sister’s eyes. “Eliza, you must be sure you know what it is you’re asking, and that you actually want me to do it.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Believe me.”

Still, Angelica hesitates. “Well, I can’t say that it doesn’t sound appealing.”

Eliza slides her hand out from Angelica’s grasp to lay on her cheek. “So you will tell me all about it?”

Finally Angelica smiles. “I will tell you all about it.”

-

It’s easy, then, to get Alexander alone, because Eliza wants it to be so. He does not know to expect her, and so she waits at the door for some minutes before he answers, distracted, his fingers stained with ink.

“Eliza isn’t at home,” he says, and Angelica smiles.

“I’ve come to see you, Alexander.”

“Oh? I was writing.”

She sweeps inside, pressing past Alexander, her skirts swirling. “I’m sure you can spare a moment for your favorite sister.”

He is clearly considering whether he can refuse, but he chooses rightly. “Of course.” He closes the door.

Angelica kisses him on the cheek, letting her lips linger. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing of import,” Alexander says, which is odd, because he never turns down an opportunity to talk about his passions. Especially not to Angelica, whom he often asks for advice.

So she arches an eyebrow, but says nothing.

Alexander watches her, hesitating, then sighs. “Eliza has been cross with me. I thought I shouldn’t talk about it, because it upsets her, so maybe it would upset you.”

Eliza has been cross indeed, which is why Angelica is here, but Alexander doesn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“Show me your papers,” Angelica says instead, and Alexander seems almost relieved. Perhaps he thinks it will allow him to return to writing rather than be forced to entertain her.

The Hamiltons’ residence is now nearly as familiar to Angelica as is her own, so she walks side-by-side with Alexander to his study. It is as pleasantly cluttered as always, papers scattered over his desk, rolls of parchment sticking out from every spare crevice, a splash of ink dripped onto the floor.

Alexander gestures toward the chaos. “I’ve been looking into the country’s finances. We need a better system.”

“Hmm,” Angelica murmurs, tapping her fingers against her other arm. “Just a bit of a side hobby?”

“Well, no one’s asked me to, exactly.” Alexander walks over to his desk and picks through the papers in clear defensiveness, avoiding her eyes. “But I plan to present it to Washington and he’ll have to listen.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes! Unless he wishes for the country to fall apart when it’s only just begun!”

Angelica can’t help the amusement in her face even as Alexander’s cheeks flush with color. “You do like to be the hero.”

He deflates then, a little. “I expect that’s part of why Eliza is so cross.”

It is, though Angelica is admittedly a bit surprised Alexander has realized. He’s brilliant, but can be very obtuse about certain things. She steps closer to the desk, sliding her hand through the mess of writings. On another day she might have wished to hear more about Alexander’s plan. Today, though, she is here for Eliza.

“This is important to you?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“Is Eliza important to you?”

Alexander frowns. “I would have hoped you wouldn’t need to ask me that.”

“As would I, Alexander. But you have been paying more attention to this,” Angelica says with a disdainful sweep through the pages on his desk, “than to my sister.”

“Eliza knew when she married me that I love my work.”

“And you agreed when you married her to love her above all else.”

They stare at each other. Anger turns Alexander’s face red. “I have work to do, Angelica. This isn’t a good time for a call.”

“No,” Angelica says, and steps around the desk. “This is exactly the right time.”

“I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. You’re welcome another time.”

Angelica moves closer. Alexander’s breath stutters. “I will not go.”

They stand so close now that Angelica can feel the flutter of Alexander’s warm breath on her skin. He is standing perfectly straight, his gaze focused on hers. She could kiss him. She thinks Alexander would kiss her back, rough, his hand in her hair, a bit of teeth. Or maybe it would be her hand in his hair, pulling.

She raises her hand to his chest. He looks down at it. She pushes him.

Alexander glares, clenching his fists by his side. “Angelica.”

“Don’t talk,” she tells him, and shoves him towards his desk.

He stumbles, forced to brace his hands on the edge. She bends him over, feeling the resistance in his spine, the startlement, the confusion.

Angelica leans over him, her lips close to his ear. He shudders when she speaks. “I’m here to teach you a lesson,” she murmurs. “My sister needs it done, but we both know she is too kind. I am… less so. This is for Eliza, but I shall enjoy it very much.”

“Angelica,” Alexander grits out between his teeth.

She smacks his bottom. He gasps. Both sounds echo in the quiet study.

“I’m not a child,” Alexander declares. “This is ridiculous.”

Angelica strokes his hair behind his ear gently before she hits him again. “Children are not the only ones who need discipline.”

“I don’t need--” His words are bitten off in a groan when Angelica hits him for a third time.

She is half-surprised and half-pleased by how… satisfying the sensation of her hand slapping against his ass is. So she does it again, this time giving him a little squeeze before she releases him. He hisses.

“What is this supposed to accomplish?”

“Why, it’s punishment, of course, Alexander. For being so… naughty.” Angelica smiles a little, unable to help herself from the turn of phrase. Thoughtfully, she considers him, then bends down to slip off her shoe.

Yes, she thinks. This will do nicely.

She removes her other shoe so she is less off-balance and then hefts the first to test its weight. She smacks it very lightly against Alexander’s ass and he flinches in surprise, craning his neck back to look.

“What is that?” His eyes widen. “You’re not serious. Angelica. Really?”

“It’s called efficiency, Alexander.”

“I could think of a good deal more words better suited to describe— ah,” he cries out, losing his words when the shoe makes its first real impact.

Angelica strokes the backs of her fingers along the seat of Alexander’s pants, over the spot she has just hit. “I’m going to need you to count.”

“Absolutely not.”

Angelica strikes him with the shoe harder, making him wince. “I’m going to hit you ten times, but the count doesn’t begin without you.”

He remains stubbornly silent as she hits him one more time and then he says, tightly, grinding it out, “One.”

“Very good,” Angelica says, and pets his hair as a reward. She keeps her left hand there in his hair when she smacks him again, stroking as he says, “Two.”

Again, for “Three,” and Angelica trails her fingers down to step ever so slightly back, admiring the line of his leg down from his buttocks, the fine cut of his breeches and his toned calves. She always did tell Eliza he had lovely calves.

The fourth blow, then, catches him slightly off-guard, and after he mutters, “Four,” he adds, “Are you sure this is not so much a punishment for me and instead a fine entertainment for you? You seem to be enjoying yourself at my expense.”

So of course Angelica hits him a bit harder, and when he begins to count she brings her left hand to cover his mouth, her finger at his lips. “No commentary, Alexander. I’m afraid that one doesn’t count now.”

He swallows a curse and then kisses her finger, slyness and daring and resentment all mingling in his dark eyes. Angelica quirks her mouth at him and drags her hand over his ass, which she is sure must ache by now, and then over his hip.

“Perhaps I do it enjoy it, but I believe I’m owed that.” She gives him a tiny squeeze and hears the hitch of his breath.

When she hits him, she lets him say, “Five,” and then she bends him over a little more, pressing closer to him. With her hand that is free of the shoe, she strokes over his flesh until she can drag her hand down over the front of his breeches, where she can tell, as she expected, that he is rather more interested in the proceedings than he would likely care to admit.

“It is punishment,” she purrs into his ear, “but you are allowed to enjoy it, too.”

He bites off a whimper, shaking his head faintly so his soft hair brushes Angelica’s cheek. “I certainly do not enjoy it. It’s humiliating.”

Angelica smiles to herself, as he can’t see it. “Ah,” she says, backing away only far enough to strike him again, leaving her free hand where it is. She sacrifices a bit in leverage but that’s alright. “Perhaps later, then.”

He gasps, and then, “Six.” She can feel him swell against her hand.

She wonders how red his flesh looks, if there is an imprint of the sole of her shoe on his skin. She wonders if it would sting more if she lowered his breeches, if he could take it, but she rather hopes to make him come like this and she feels the reward will be greater if he makes a mess in his clothes.

The reward will be greater for her, in any case.

She slaps him twice in close succession, so that he cannot even finish saying, “Seven,” before the eighth blow arrives. She can see how much he wishes to speak, to curse at her, to protest, to tell her all the reasons this is whatever adjective he considers it to be, but he controls himself by biting his own lip to hold the words back. Angelica is actually rather impressed with him; she knows being quiet is far from his strength.

So she tells him, “You are doing very well, Alexander,” and doesn’t miss the pleasure he obviously derives from that. He trembles, his breathing so quick, and he nudges his hips towards her. Angelica carefully slides away so they do not touch, tutting.

“Not yet,” she says. “You are being taught a lesson.”

At that he seems to forget himself. “I am being--”

Angelica hits him so hard that he thuds forward against the desk and cries out. “I said you must not talk back, didn’t I? That one doesn’t count.”

Alexander drops his head down nearly to the desktop, his shoulders sagging. His breathing is harsh in the still room. “Angelica,” he murmurs, apparently unable to help himself.

She decides that’s an acceptable communication and merely smooths the back of her hand over his sore bottom. She twists her wrist over as she drags it down, so that she softly caresses his thigh, and then moves back up. He shudders beneath her touch.

Then she hits him with the shoe, startling him, and the desk rocks faintly from the impact of his weight. His quill falls with a light thump.

“Nine,” he says, the word half a moan.

“Good,” Angelica says. She is almost sorry they are so close to being done but Alexander seems to be trying to rub himself off on the edge of his own writing desk, so she feels significantly motivated to finish this. She eagerly anticipates being able to tell Eliza this fascinating development, that she barely even needed to touch him to make him come. How much was from the submission to her control, and how much from the act of spanking itself? She looks forward to future experimentation.

Angelica molds herself to Alexander’s back, bending over him so she can breathe against the side of his neck, speak into his ear. She rocks forward against him and he groans. “Stop,” she says.

He freezes in place. She can feel how he trembles with the effort of it. 

“You’ve taken this very well. Mostly,” she amends. “So you can come, but only when I say, and only because of me. You mustn’t cheat. Understand?”

He nods. Angelica is proud of his restraint so she allows herself to stroke his hair back and kiss the back of his neck, a gesture perhaps sweeter than the situation calls for but she loves the way it makes him shiver.

Then she twists her fingers into his hair and pulls. The sound he makes goes straight through her, want curling low inside. “You deserved this,” she says, speaking low into his ear. “You deserved the pain, deserved to be punished. But I’m proud of you, Alexander. I’m proud of how good you’ve been, how well you’ve behaved. You’re so good.”

His breathing grows more ragged at the praise, as Angelica continues to tug on his hair, to scratch her fingertips against his scalp. She lets her body rock against his again before drawing back enough to graze his bottom with the shoe, to remind him that he still has one more blow coming. She looks past him to scan the room, pleased to find the small sofa in the corner just where she thought she remembered it being, and thinks to finish this a bit differently.

She straightens fully and steps back, Alexander’s eyes tracking her in surprise. She walks to the sofa, seating herself, smoothing her skirts. “Alexander,” she says, not failing to note the way dark lust fills his eyes at the commanding tone she takes. “Come here. Lay yourself across my lap.”

He is still for a second, perhaps as his brain struggles to catch up, but then he moves with admirable speed, his hardness evident within his breeches. He moans softly when he lies as she directed, the line of his cock against her thigh, and Angelica shifts just enough so she may press against him with ease. “Still,” she says, and he does not thrust, or roll his hips, or grind against her in any way, in spite of how much he clearly longs to.

“So good,” she says, petting his hair, and he whimpers. Angelica presses just so, and he muffles the sound wrung out of him by biting the back of his fist.

She rubs her thigh against his cock more firmly. “I want to hear you.”

Alexander groans, long and loud, and Angelica murmurs kind words to him, only half aware of what she’s saying. She caresses the back of his thigh, then rubs the shoe over the swell of his ass, waiting for just the right moment. She can sense the way Alexander holds himself back, unsure if he is allowed.

“It’s alright,” she says. “You may come.”

Angelica feels it when he shakes through his release, a choked out cry of her name falling from his lips, and that’s it, that’s the perfect moment. She strikes him with the shoe, hard, as he shudders against her. When he finally manages to say, “Ten,” he’s nearly crying, pleasure and pain and shame and relief.

“Very, very good,” Angelica coos, fingers gliding through his hair and down his back. She lets her shoe drop to the floor and strokes his ass, squeezing, making him whimper. “You are so good, Alexander.”

He nuzzles his face against her, sweetly affectionate in the haze of his release, and Angelica expects him to lie there until she forces him to move. Instead, she watches as he slides down to the floor, dropping to his knees.

Huh. Interesting. Angelica can’t say she doesn’t like it.

She stands, liking the way he must crane his neck to look at her. He drops his gaze a bit coyly, so that he can look up at her through his eyelashes, and she knows he is very aware of how attractive the effect is. Nothing can quite contain him.

(My, but she loves him.)

He’s on his knees, begging with his eyes. “Angelica,” he says, quiet, like he isn’t sure she won’t hit him again for talking, like he doesn’t know how long her game will last. “Please.”

She knows what he’s asking.

She lifts her skirts. That, apparently, is all the invitation he needs.

Alexander fairly lunges for her, scurrying beneath her heavy skirt, her petticoats, her shift, and then his hands are on the backs of her thighs and his mouth is on her core and she gasps. For a moment it occurs to her to wonder if he will be able to breathe under there but when his tongue slides against her she decides he can figure that out himself.

She wishes she were still by the desk; she needs something to grip to steady herself. Instead she reaches for the shape of Alexander’s head beneath her dress and holds him. She imagines his startled gasp, as he is muffled beneath so much fabric, and she imagines the sensation of his hair against her skin rather than the actual cloth she is feeling.

What she does not need to imagine is the press of his lips, of his tongue, the way he sucks and then licks her. His fingers knead into her flesh and when she sways he pulls her tighter to himself. “Alexander,” she says, “Alexander,” and has no idea if he can hear her.

Though she would not like to admit it, Angelica knows she is close, knows that she was as excited by their game as Alexander was. He edges her closer and closer with his mouth and it won’t take much, it –

She sighs when he slides a finger inside her, just the slightest pressure. Alexander’s breath is warm between her thighs, his tongue drawing a line, then curling against that, ah, that perfect spot that makes her moan. He sucks her in, then flicks his tongue, and he is – he is so good –

He doesn’t move away as she cries out, his lips sealed tight around that place, sucking, and she knows she must be holding him too fiercely but she cannot think, she can do nothing but gasp as the pleasure rocks through her. She does not know how she came to be sitting again but her legs must have decided they could no longer bear her weight; she must be glad, she supposes, that the sofa was just there.

Alexander has managed to free himself from beneath her skirts. He sits back on his heels and watches her, smug as only he can be, flushed and sweaty, his lips wet and his hair a mess. There is a stain on the front of his breeches. He is beautiful.

“So good,” Angelica tells him, and strokes the side of his face.

**_End_ **


End file.
